by Kate Baxter
“Sasha? Is everything okay?”
Gods, she’d totally zoned out. She took a deep breath and choked on the intake as the overpowering scent of werewolf hit her. Wow. “How do you handle the—”
“You get used to it.” Lucas cut her off as though he’d read her mind. Then again, she hadn’t exactly been subtle in the way she’d choked. He grinned. “It’s not that bad.”
Maybe she shouldn’t have come here. She should have gone to talk to Ani about her problems. Ani already knew her situation and wouldn’t be surprised at the way things had gone so miserably south. Ani was rough and wild and unapologetic. She knew the city’s underworld. Lucas didn’t.
“Maybe that’s why you came here, then? Because I don’t know any of the things your friend knows.”
Sasha’s jaw hung slack. She stared, disbelieving, at Lucas. He’d heard her thoughts as plainly as if she’d spoken them out loud. It was impossible …
“You know one of my secrets,” he said with a sympathetic smile. “So now you can trust me with one of yours.”
Holy shit. She’d definitely come to the right place. “I don’t have a car.” She figured it was a good idea to let him know he’d be driving tonight.
“No problem.” He grabbed a key fob from a bowl on a table near the door. “Let’s go.”
She’d yet to share a single secret with him and already Sasha felt unburdened. But that was the thing about Lucas. You only had to spend a few minutes with him to feel his calming effects. Yep, she’d certainly made the right decision. Because she really needed a dose of that calm right about now.
It wasn’t a coffee shop, but it wasn’t an overcrowded club, either. The low-key bar a few miles from the pack’s estate was the total opposite of the type of place Sasha pictured Lucas hanging out. Dark, a little run-down, a little dirty, with low, old-school country music playing in the background, and no more than two other customers to crowd the space. The bartender looked to be in his late fifties though Sasha bet he was closer to forty-eight. Hard living had no doubt creased his brow, and sagged the skin under his eyes, and prematurely grayed his hair. He had kind blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled at them and he offered up a polite greeting as she and Lucas settled into a booth near the back of the bar.
“Can I get you two anything?” The bartender didn’t bother leaving his post, but instead, shouted to them.
“I’ll take a beer,” Lucas called back. “I’m not picky. Whatever.”
The bartender nodded and turned his attention to Sasha.
“Whiskey. On the rocks. And make it a double.”
He gave Sasha a knowing look. She figured he was well versed in the art of drinking his troubles away. Like recognized like, and he’d obviously seen the dark shadow on her soul. She’d certainly seen it on his.
Lucas waited to speak until after their drinks were delivered. He took a long pull from the bottle, his fathomless blue gaze trained on Sasha. He wasn’t going to press her. Or ask questions. Instead, he waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts. She liked him. Liked his quiet, calming presence and silent strength. He’d make a worthy mate to some lucky female someday. She sipped from her glass and thought about the burn of the whiskey as it slid down her throat. Almost soothing in comparison to the dry heat of bloodlust.
“My life is completely fucked up.”
Lucas set his bottle down and gave Sasha his complete attention. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
She cocked a brow. Oh no? She was about to prove him wrong. This was definitely a hold-my-beer moment. “I’m tethered to a berserker, left my coven … Oh, and there’s a gang of demons trying to scare me into convincing my mate to sacrifice himself so they can make a few bucks.” She didn’t bother to add the bit about said mate being unreasonably possessive and jealous over her one-time love for her maker. Too much drama.
Lucas’s eyes went wide as he leaned back in the booth. “You’re right. Your life is completely fucked up.”
Sasha swallowed down a groan. She wanted to bang her head against the table until it knocked her the hell out and left her blissfully unconscious. “See?”
“You left out the bit about being in love with Saeed, though.” His freaky mind-reading ability really wigged Sasha out! She’d need to be careful what she let float around in her head when she was in Lucas’s company. “Not a bad idea,” he added with a wink. “You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”
“That is seriously off the charts.” Sasha drank half of the whiskey left in her glass in a single swallow. “How are you able to do it?”
“A quirk of my transition.” Lucas drank as well and let his esoteric answer hang in the air. “I know where you’re coming from in regards to Saeed, Sasha. That’s why I brought it up. I’m not tethered but I’ve been in your situation. Sort of. It complicates those feelings that you had such confidence in.”
Exactly! She’d devoted herself to Saeed centuries ago. Had always had such undying faith in her feelings for him. Had hoped that someday, he’d return those feelings. After his transition, Saeed had become even more distant. Sasha had failed to tether him and it was like someone had pulled the rug out from under her. And to add insult to injury, she’d found her soul secured to a mortal enemy. How could she possibly trust her feelings ever again when they’d betrayed her for so long?
“I can’t help you not love Saeed,” Lucas said. “Just like I can’t help you detangle yourself from the berserker. The tether is absolute.” A truth repeated among their kind. Sasha was beginning to think it was vampire kind’s slogan. “But I can try to help with your other problems. Let’s start with the issue with the demons and work our way backward. Who exactly are they, and what exactly do they want?”
She was so glad Bria had thought it a good idea to introduce her to Lucas. She’d been tentative at first. His innocence, inexperience, his nice-guy persona. But Sasha should have known better than anyone that looks could be deceiving and that Lucas showed those around him only what he wanted them to see. There was more to the handsome young vampire than met the eye. He had depth. And secrets of his own. Sasha was glad to call him a friend and thankful to have him in her corner.
“Have you ever been burned by hellfire, Lucas?” She swallowed the rest of her whiskey as she gathered her thoughts. “It hurts like a motherfucker.”
Gods, she hoped he could help her find a way out of this mess. If not, she and Ewan both might meet their ends before their respective families had a chance to punish them for their betrayals.
“Calm down,” Lucas said. “No one’s punishing anyone. At least, not on your end.”
It was true that if she was punished at all by Saeed it would be a relative slap on the wrist compared to what Ewan could expect. The leader of his clan was the most feared and remorseless warlord in supernatural history. She worried for Ewan. He was so strong. So confident. But everything and everyone had its breaking point.
Including Ewan Brún.
CHAPTER
25
It took all night and the entire next day for Ewan to track down the piece of shit demons who’d hassled them a few nights ago. Luckily, his success in the battle arena had earned him a few favors and he didn’t hesitate to cash in those chits. He planned to take care of his problems one by one and these bastards were unfortunately the easiest on his growing list to tackle. It had been twenty-four hours since he’d walked out on Sasha and it would likely be another twenty-four before he saw her again. If he saw her again. He wouldn’t blame her if she told him to fuck off and never show his face around her again. Of course, that was assuming she cared enough to tell him to fuck off. For all he knew, she’d already run back to her coven and that motherfucker Saeed.
“Would it matter if I told you this was a monumentally bad idea?”
Ewan looked askance at Drew. It wasn’t his first bad idea and it sure as hell wouldn’t be his last. “I’ll be damned if I let these foul-smelling, hellfire-wielding sons of bitches tell me what I will or will not do.” The
y claimed they wanted compensation for money lost on Ewan’s fights, but he suspected they wanted him out of the arena altogether. “And if they think they’re getting a dime of our money, they’ve got another think coming.”
Drew let out a derisive snort. “We’re already sharing with Gregor; what’s one more palm to grease?”
Ewan scowled. “Gregor’s greased palm was a necessity to buy us some time and a little space. Not going to apologize for it. I’ll compensate you out of my cut.”
Drew let out a sigh that slumped his shoulders. “Nah. We’re good. I’m just sick and fucking tired of being his little bitch and living like a gods-damned squatter.”
Ewan felt the exact same way. His need for self-improvement and freedom was what had pushed him toward the battle arenas in the first place. “You and me both. Nothing’s going to derail that. I promise.”
Drew turned to look at Ewan, his expression sour. “Not even the vampire?”
Fuck. He supposed the subject of Sasha was unavoidable. “It’s … complicated.”
“It’s complicated?” Ewan cringed at Drew’s incredulous laughter. “What is this, a fucking rom-com? She’s a complication we don’t need. Find another pussy to stick your dick in.”
If only it were that simple. In the past, he’d never had a problem moving from one pussy to the next. Nameless, faceless fucks that meant absolutely nothing to him. An opportunity to blow off some steam and nothing else. But Sasha was different. She was in his blood. His bones. His fucking marrow. He couldn’t shake free of her hold no matter how hard he tried. If Drew found that frustrating, it was nothing in comparison to how it made Ewan feel.
“Not gonna happen.” Ewan opted for the easiest answer. The one most likely to shut Drew up. “Besides, she’s the assignment Gregor’s had me on.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Drew’s disgust was why Ewan had to keep this business between him and Sasha to himself. “He’s finally lost his gods-damned mind.”
Finally? In Ewan’s opinion, Gregor’s sanity had never been intact. The male was a raging psychopath, plain and simple. He was done thinking about that son of a bitch for now, though. He put on his turn signal and pulled into a long winding driveway before coming to a stop at the security gate that barred him access to the demon kingpin’s lavish Sunset Boulevard estate.
“This is some swanky shit,” Drew remarked. “Gregor should be embarrassed. How can anyone possibly take him seriously when we continue to live like a bunch of assholes holed up in a homeless shelter?”
Drew missed the point. Gregor didn’t give a shit about material possessions. He didn’t care what the supernatural community thought of him. He didn’t wield his power by being flashy with his wealth. Ian Gregor demanded respect through violence. His strength of body, mind, and purpose were his prized possessions. Driven by the ghosts of his past and the burning need for revenge, he’d let them all starve to death and live unsheltered in the forest before he’d abandon his cause.
Ewan leaned out of the gaping hole of where the driver side door used to be toward an intercom mounted on the stone pier near the gate. He pushed the button and unclenched his jaw. “It’s Ewan Brún,” he growled. “Let me the fuck in.”
He didn’t get a response, but instead the gate creaked and gave a metallic whine as it slowly opened. Anxious energy gathered in his gut and sent a surge of power through his limbs. There was nothing stopping the demons from killing them both once they walked into the house. Hell, or even once they pulled into the fucking driveway. But Ewan was banking on the fact that the demons needed him. They sure as hell wouldn’t make any money by killing him right now.
The long winding driveway that led through the property was almost as ridiculous as the house itself. Gaudy. Extravagant. Completely tasteless. Really, the perfect place for a bunch of classless demon bastards.
“Remember,” Ewan said to Drew. “If shit goes south—”
“Yeah, I know,” Drew replied. “Get out of there. Fuck you, Ewan.”
He let out a soft laugh. At least Ewan could count on his cousin to have his back. “All right, let’s get this taken care of so we can get the fuck out of here.”
Drew gave a nod and got out of the car. They walked across the breezeway toward the front door, a monstrosity of oak and gold leaf that made Ewan wonder if this particular demon had a hard-on for seventies gangster movies. Jesus. If the demons didn’t kill him, their tacky taste would probably get the job done.
The door swung open before he’d even set foot on the last step. It was like some scene from a cheesy haunted house movie, being welcomed by an eerie, empty space. Ewan snorted. If this was an intimidation tactic, it had failed miserably. Ewan was the sort of monster that other monsters had nightmares about. He didn’t spook easily.
“I’ve got a lot of shit to do tonight and you’re wasting my time!” he shouted to the room at large. “So let’s get down to business or you can take your propositions and shove them up your dank, sulfur-scented asses.”
Drew stood stoic, yet alert beside him. He was ready to throw down and kick some demon ass. Ewan wasn’t gonna lie, he was more than ready to fuck someone up and he hoped one of them would piss him off to the point that he ignored his better judgment. He was sick and tired of being played, manipulated, controlled. Used, underestimated, abused. Someone was going to pay for his shitty mood and he didn’t care much who.
“Gods! Did someone gut a rancid animal, or did a berserker just step into my house?”
Ewan rolled his eyes. Demons went out of their way to get under everyone’s skin, he wasn’t surprised they were trying to get under his. “I guess if you want to waste time slinging insults, that’s your prerogative. But I came here to talk business, and if you don’t want to do that, I’m out of here.”
The scent of sulfur intensified to the point that Ewan’s eyes began to water. He choked on an intake of breath and the dry scorch of his throat. He needed a glass of water. Strike that. He needed a gallon of fucking water. He felt like he’d been drinking all night, climbed out of bed, and emptied a sleeve of crackers into his mouth. Was this how Sasha felt when her need for blood overtook her?
“Do you have my money?” The demon that had first accosted Ewan after his fight stepped into the foyer from a room to the left. It looked to be some sort of formal living room furnished with blood-red leather furniture and every piece draped with ugly, fluffy, white faux fur. Classy. “Seventy-five large, if I’m not mistaken.”
Huh. Just a few days ago, it had been fifty large. What a prick. Ewan had a hard time remembering the supposedly infamous demon’s name, and frankly, he didn’t care. Sorras? Sonath? He just wanted the lousy fucker to tell him what he really wanted so Ewan could plan his next move.
“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told you the last time we talked. You’re not getting a dime out of me.”
And just like that, demons poured out of the woodwork. From every room, corner, shadow, and crevice, bodies converged on the spot where he and Drew stood. The scent of sulfur filled his nostrils, his lungs. Slithered down his throat and soured his stomach. Drew began to choke on an intake of breath as they were both seized by many pairs of hands and shoved toward the gods-awful red and white living room.
Whatever was coming, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. For the first time in a long time Ewan came to the realization that there might be something out there nastier than Ian Gregor. Either way, he was about to find out.
* * *
“When I said I would help you, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“Hey, it was your suggestion that we deal with the easiest problems first. This one is easiest.”
Lucas pursed his full lips as he regarded Sasha. “True, but it was also my suggestion that we take the diplomatic route first.”
Sasha cut Lucas a look. “You can’t be diplomatic when it comes to demons. All they want to do is pick a fight.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to bring them one.”
“Yes, it does.” Lucas didn’t understand. The demons weren’t interested in talking, or negotiating, or playing nice. They didn’t want to be paid off or placated. They wanted Ewan dead and that was nonnegotiable. And because he was a gods-damned force of nature, unkillable, unstoppable, violent, and ruthless, they knew the only way he’d fall was voluntarily.
Or otherwise under duress.
Sasha had one option and one option only. Take the bastards out before they could do any more damage.
“You don’t have to come with me, Lucas,” Sasha said. “This is my fight and it has nothing to do with you. I would never expect you to put your life on the line.” She’d known all along she’d have to go it alone. And that was okay.
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’d let you do this alone.” Lucas reached over and grabbed a dagger and a set of throwing knives from a chest in Sasha’s living room. “I gotta say, for this only being a crash pad, you’ve got a nice armory started.”
The place might’ve been sparsely furnished, and the walls devoid of any art or decoration. But Sasha had brought the necessities when she’d first rented this place. She might have wanted Ewan, craved his blood like a drug. She might’ve been tethered to him. But that didn’t mean she’d trusted him. Security was, and always had been, at the forefront of Sasha’s mind.
“I don’t fuck around.”
Lucas laughed. “No, you don’t. You definitely have your priorities straight. Do you have any idea where to even find these demons?”
“Not exactly.” Sasha might’ve played around with the seedy underbelly of the supernatural world, but she was hardly an insider. That didn’t mean she was without connections. “My friend Ani will know where to find them. At least, I hope she’ll know.” She hoped her faith in her wasn’t misplaced. The sylph had always seemed so in the know. She kept her ear to the ground and listened even when no one thought she was paying attention. Bartenders had a way of staying beneath the radar and for some reason, no one ever seemed to censor themselves once they bellied up to the bar.